A Haunting From Connecticut
by atlee
Summary: Is the Intersect acting up again, or is Chuck really being visited from the beyond? A short pre-Halloween story.


_I don't own "Chuck." Maybe I'll get one if I go out trick-or-treating. But I'll probably end up with pennies, dental floss, and those off-brand Tootsie Rolls instead._

**A Haunting From Connecticut**

"Bartowski!"

"_Bartowski!"_

Casey's second growl finally returned Chuck's attention to the computer screen. "Alright alright, I'm still working on it."

"You know, we're only here so you can find out more about the link between Volkov and your mother," Casey grumbled. "So maybe you could at least pretend to care about what you're doing."

"Hey, this isn't easy Casey. There are multiple firewalls and…"

"Please spare us the geekspeak and just finish, for Chrissakes."

Chuck glanced up at his two partners. Casey was hovering over him, arms enfolded. The flickering light of the basement room they'd snuck into made the large NSA Agent seem even more menacing than usual. Sarah, meanwhile, was smiling at him, but he could see the concern in her eyes. He knew he had been more flighty and jumpy than usual, and apparently his girlfriend had noticed as well. It certainly hadn't helped that he'd been staring at the wall behind them for the last couple of minutes.

At least, thankfully, they hadn't known exactly what he had been staring at.

While math, and eventually computer science, had always been Chuck's best subjects, he had always been pretty good at science as well. He had aced physics in high school, and held his own at Stanford. He figured he knew more than the average person about nature and the world around him. So he must have been home sick the day they explained how a computer monitor could float in midair.

Unfortunately, the alternative was that the Intersect was playing tricks on his mind. Which meant that the Governor wasn't doing its job. This, to Chuck, was much more alarming than the possibility of being conked on the head by a flying monitor.

He turned his attention back to the computer and finally forced his way onto the company servers. A brief scan of the files told him exactly what he didn't want to see. Nothing. No mention of Frost whatsoever. He sighed and gave the bad news to his partners.

"You mean this was all a waste of time? I could have been home cleaning my guns?" Chuck tried to ignore the pair of computer mice that were now doing a softshoe over Casey's head.

"Sorry guys."

"It's ok, Chuck," Sarah smiled sadly. "I know how important this is to you, and we should follow every lead. At least we can cross one possibility off our list."

Chuck nodded. "Yeah, but I don't think I can do any more crossing tonight. Let's go home."

* * *

"I'm going to take a shower."

Chuck was so preoccupied, Sarah's comment barely registered. Usually he would offer to join her, and in some cases, she would invite him. But at the moment, he needed to think.

He hadn't said much on the return trip, instead spending most of his time considering what the recent events meant for him. The floating computer screen wasn't the first ominous sign. He'd seen several of Ellie's pots and pans rattle by themselves last week, something he'd attributed to the wine they'd served for dinner. Then he could have sworn he'd seen a Jar Jar Binks mask hover over him a few days ago, which was only partially surprising because he'd thought Morgan and Lester had burned it in effigy. Then yesterday, a pair of Sarah's underwear had flown by. While this was a much more pleasant sight than the other otherworldly sightings, it was still jarring (not to mention that they looked a lot better when attached to Sarah).

He headed quietly into the apartment's office. The room still held a slight hint of the man sweat left over from its prior incarnation as Awesome's workout area, but Chuck barely noticed it. He knelt down, pushed aside a table and opened the safe door behind it. He began to twirl the knob, his reflexes remembering the combination without any conscious thought.

"_Chuuuck…"_

Chuck chose to ignore the wheezing sound behind him, and continued working on the combination. Unfortunately, he missed the second number, and was forced to start over

"_Chuuuck…_"

"Oh shut up, Intersect," Chuck grumbled.

"_Oh for God sakes Chuck, turn around!_"

Chuck turned around, and found himself staring at a sheet flowing through the air a few feet away from him.

"Oh wonderful, the Intersect must have found an old episode of Scooby-doo in the recesses of my brain."

"_Chuuuck, I am here to haunt you._"

"Yeah, you're not real."

"_Chuuuck, you question me at your own peril._"

"I think I'll take my chances." Chuck turned back towards the safe, but the soft brush of the sheet against his arm made him turn around.

"The visual effects are great, Intersect. But I'm still not buying it. First of all, we already know you have a tendency to make me things that aren't there. Second, no matter how many times I hear Jeff's stories about his mother's haunted house, I don't believe in ghosts. Third, if ghosts did exist, I have a hard time believing that they'd fly around in Morgan's Star Wars sheets."

Chuck returned his attention to the safe, and finally managed to get it open. He reached in, and pulled the set of watches out.

"It's not the Governor, Chuck."

Chuck wasn't sure if it was the words, the forceful tone that spoke them, or the bad Schwarzenegger impression that said them, but he turned back around.

The sheet hovered there for a moment longer before being whipped away, revealing the ghostly form of Bryce Larkin.

"Oh great, this just gets better and better."

* * *

"Hello Chuck," Ghost Bryce said.

Chuck just stood there, giving the vision before him a skeptical once-over.

"Not easily convinced, are you?"

Chuck enfolded his arms in front of his chest. "Well, I suppose I could ask you to tell me something only Bryce and I would know, but then again if you were a figment of my imagination, you'd know that too."

"True."

"I suppose I could ask you to tell me something that Bryce knows that I don't."

"Ah, but then you wouldn't know if it was me telling the truth or your hallucination making it up."

Chuck sat down. "I guess we're at an impasse then."

Ghost Bryce looked thoughtful. "I have an idea." He motioned to the laptop standing at the side. "That linked in to the NSA?"

Chuck nodded.

"Alright. Hit Control-Alt-F7."

Chuck did as told. The screen flickered momentarily, before a view of Casey's apartment appeared. As the older agent had said earlier, he was busy cleaning his collection of firearms.

"Hey, I didn't know you could do that," Chuck commented, staring at the screen.

"Exactly."

Chuck looked up. "Well, I could be hallucinating this whole thing right now."

"Ok. I'll give you a bit more. Now watch the screen closely."

"Bryce, I…" But the ghost was gone.

"Wonderful," Chuck grumbled, but he watched the laptop anyway.

For a while, not much happened. Chuck briefly wondered if all of Casey's nights alone were like this.

Finally, he heard a weird sound come from the screen, and he watched Casey look sharply upward. Chuck could just make out an object floating about two feet away from the NSA Agent. It took a great deal of squinting to figure out what the object was. Finally, it floated nearby the hidden camera, and he recognized the photograph of Ronald Reagan.

"_Casey. John Casey._" At least Bryce's Reagan impersonation was better than his Schwarzenegger.

Casey was now on his feet, backing away from the floating photo.

"_I want you to do something for me, John Casey."_

"What?" Casey asked, his voice an octave higher than usual.

"_I want you to be nicer to Charles Bartowski, John Casey. He's a real American hero, and deserved to be appreciated."_

"I _am_ nice to him." Chuck almost choked when he heard that.

"_Not good enough. The next time you see Charles Bartowski, I want you to give him a big hug."_

"What?" Casey and Chuck asked at the same time.

"_Show him how important he is to this country. You must promise you will do this for me, John Casey._"

"What about a pat on the back?" Chuck could see Casey's face take on a slight reddish tinge.

"_No! A hug! At least ten full seconds! Swear this on your young Republicans badge_."

"I, uh, don't have that anymore."

"_Swear it!_"

"Ok! I swear I will be nicer to Chuck Bartowski."

"_Good. But there's more I need you to do._"

"Yes, Mr. President?"

"_I want you to send $1,000 to the ACLU._"

"Do not question me!"

"_Ok, ok._"

"_And now, let's talk about health care._"

Chuck saw Casey glance down at his firearm, and he decided he'd better get over there quickly.

* * *

For a few minutes, Chuck couldn't hear anything through the door. Chuck tried knocking again, and finally heard a faint, "Yeah yeah, I'm coming."

A moment later, a wild-eyed John Casey opened the door. He immediately scowled at the sight of Chuck, then stared behind him towards the courtyard. Once he appeared to be convinced there was nobody out there, he put a strong hand on Chuck's shoulder and dragged him inside.

As soon as the door slammed behind them, Casey dragged Chuck into a rough, awkward embrace.

"Uh, are you ok, Casey?" Chuck's voice trembled slightly from the firm pats Casey was giving his back. He could see the Reagan photograph lying on the chair. For a second, the shimmering visage of Bryce appeared, giving Chuck a wink, before vanishing again.

"Alright." Casey quickly released Chuck. "Now get the hell out of here."

"Are you sure you're alright, Casey?"

"I said get out, before my foot goes up your…"

Chuck quickly ran out the door before Casey could finish.

* * *

Chuck let himself back into his bungalow. Heading back toward the office, he could hear the sound of water coming from the bathroom. He was somewhat relieved that Sarah was still in the shower. He wasn't sure what he'd say to her right now.

"So," Ghost Bryce said as soon as Chuck closed the office door behind him. "Convinced?"

"Well, I could have hallucinated that whole disturbing episode. But to be honest, I really hope not, so I'll assume that all actually happened. But if that's the case, I have to ask why you needed to do that? I still have to work with him, you know. I really don't want to have to deal with a Casey who's losing it."

"Hey? Can't I have a little fun? And don't you think I owe Casey something for shooting me?"

Chuck sat down again. "Whatever. Is that why you're really here? To go all Polter-bryce on us and drive us nuts?"

"Well, actually, I'm bored."

"Bored?"

"Yeah, the afterlife isn't exactly action-packed. There's only so much you can do when you have to struggle to be able to pick up a book, and you can't eat or drink anything. Man I miss Snickers." Bryce shook his head. "At least I've gotten to play the occasional prank. Never as much fun as with Casey though." He chuckled. "But other than that, there's not much to do. So I've been watching over you for the last year or so."

"Really?" Chuck asked with surprise.

"Well, I kind of gave up during that whole Shaw episode. God that was painful to watch. Geez, you were annoying."

"I don't know that I was that…"

"Trust me, if I wasn't already dead, I probably would have killed myself if I had to watch anymore."

"Then why are you here now?" Chuck asked.

"Well, you know, there isn't a lot the unsubstantial can do in this world."

"Can't you, like, hang out with other ghosts?"

Bryce made a face. "No thank you. Most ghosts are here because they have some 'unfinished business' left from their life, and they tend to obsess over it. It makes them very self-involved. There's only so many 'Oh my life is so unfinished' bitch-fests you can listen to before you go nuts, trust me."

"Well then, what's your unfinished business?" Chuck asked. "Did you come back to apologize to me?"

Bryce laughed. "Apologize to you? For what?"

Chuck gave the ghost an incredulous look. "For sending me the Intersect? For getting me kicked out of Stanford?"

"Oh please," Bryce snorted. "Your life is way better off because of all of that. I mean, where would be right now if it wasn't for me? In some dull desk job? Doing the same thing every day? Admit it, Chuck, you love the excitement of being a spy."

The ghost, or the Intersect hallucination, had a point, Chuck admitted to himself.

"And Jill being Fulcrum had nothing to do with me. So I hardly see that relationship having a future."

Chuck realized Bryce hadn't mentioned the biggest way his life had changed for the better. "And I never would have met Sarah."

"Ah, Sarah."

Chuck's eyes narrowed. "You know, you really hurt her when you kept her in the dark with Operation Sandwall. Maybe she's the one you owe the apology to."

"Good point. Maybe I should go talk to her. She still in the shower?"

"Hold on." Chuck reached out to stop Bryce, but his hand slide right through him. He turned around to watch him disappear through the office door. "Oh, geez," he muttered, going after him.

* * *

As Chuck was reaching out to grab the door knob, Bryce stuck his head through the door. Chuck jumped backwards, and almost fell over the office chair.

"Relax, Chuck," Ghost Bryce said. "I wasn't going to burst in on her. Besides, it's not like I haven't seen her naked before."

Chuck tried not to dwell on this. He'd had enough trouble dealing with four years of finding socks on his doorknob. Thinking of Bryce with Sarah had always been too much for him.

Bryce passed back through the door, and stood over Chuck. "I don't think she's the reason I'm still here, anyway. She understands why I did what I did. And whatever we had together personally, is a long time ago."

"If you say so," Chuck said uncertainly as he returned to his feet.

"Yeah, I think she was only interested in me because she felt like that's what she should be doing. Same thing with Shaw. The dashing, good-looking guys, that's not really her type. She's much more into you."

Chuck grabbed a pen and threw it at Bryce, but it flew through him and clattered against the wall.

Bryce smiled. "Ah, you know I'm messing with you. But trust me, that woman is in love with you. I've never seen her smile as much as she does now. But you may want to lose this whole self-doubt thing. It's not helping things between you two. The only thing that could possibly screw you guys up is you."

Chuck nodded.

"So enjoy your time together rather than looking for issues like you've been stuck an hour into some romantic comedy. You have a great life, Chuck. You get to go on exciting missions and you have a beautiful woman who loves you. And trust me, post-mission sex is the best."

Ghost Bryce laughed again as Chuck turned pale. "Sorry, but you're still so much fun to torture. And if there's one good thing about the afterlife, it's the opportunity to mess with people. Hey do you remember the time we planted those magazines in Thompson's room when his parents were coming?"

"_You_ planted. The practical jokes were your thing. Still are, apparently." Chuck thought back to their time together in college. In retrospect, it was amazing that Bryce had time to take classes, be the life of every party, the Fraternity's number one prankster, and bed a ridiculous number of coeds, all while spying for his father. So much of it didn't make sense. One thing in particular, Chuck realized.

"Bryce, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, why not?" Bryce had sat down on the floor, and was now leaning back with his hands behind his head.

"If my dad hadn't asked you to, you know, look out for me, would the two of us…"

"Been friends?" Ghost Bryce finished. He thought for a moment. "I don't know. We probably wouldn't have been traveling in the same circles, you know."

Seeing Chuck's frown, he said, "But why does that matter? That's just opportunity. The point is, we _were_ friends, right? After all," he smirked, "I did stand by you during that whole Belle and Sebastian phase you went through sophomore year."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"The bottom line, Chuck, is this. There's nobody out there who hasn't been better off from having you in their life. That's true of everybody we knew in college, that's true of your pal Morgan, that's true of Casey – though he won't admit it, it sure as hell is true of Sarah, and it's true of the 683.5 people whose lives you've saved."

"Point five?" Chuck asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, there was a pregnant woman at the reception in Costa Gavras. And that's just the people you've saved since I died. I wasn't really keeping track before."

"Wow." It had never occurred to Chuck to keep track of such things. He wondered if Bryce was counting Morgan once for each time he'd saved him, or once overall.

"Trust me, Chuck. You've always been a good friend to me, and I really missed getting the chance to hang out with you after Stanford. I'd love to go out and share a beer with you now, but I literally can't hold my liquor anymore."

Chuck gave his old friend a smile. "I'd have liked that too."

"Whoa," Ghost Bryce said as he began to stand up.

"What?" Chuck asked.

"Either I'm getting indigestion for the first time, or I'm getting ready to move onto another plane."

"Wait, does that mean the whole 'unfinished business' thing _was_ you and me?" Chuck's eyes narrowed. "At least, assuming I'm buying all of this, and this isn't some Intersect-induced fever dream?"

"Yeah, that." Bryce said, beginning to fade in the light of the room. "But, really, does it matter? You got to have one last conversation with me either way."

"True. Hey Bryce,"

"What is it, Chuck?" Bryce asked, his voice now faint.

"Say hello to the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man for me."

"Sure thing, Chuck."

"Chuck?"

* * *

Chuck whirled around to see Sarah at the doorway, the scent of shampoo still emanating from her wet hair.

"Who are you talking to?"

Chuck turned back around briefly. Bryce was gone, leaving an empty room. "Ah, just working through a few things."

Sarah pursed her lips, concern shining from her eyes. "Are you sure you're ok Chuck? You've been acting a bit weird lately."

"Yeah, yeah, I think I'm good. Just doing some Gubernatorial maintenance," he pointed to the set of watches still out.

"Ok," Sarah sounded unsure.

"Plus, I guess I've been thinking lately."

"About what?"

"Bryce."

"Oh," Sarah frowned. "Chuck, you know that I never really…"

"No no, it's not that!" Chuck interrupted. "I was actually thinking back to our days in college. "We actually had some pretty good times together. Did he ever talk about some of the pranks he pulled back then?"

Sarah shook her head. "We kept our pasts strictly to ourselves."

"Hmm." After a moment, Chuck walked out of the office, motioning for Sarah to follow. "Come on."

* * *

"But how did he get a live goat into the dorm room?" Sarah laughed.

"I guess he used his spy skills. I was at the library at the time, so I didn't see any of it. I'd learned enough by then to stay clear of the house. For both the crime and the aftermath. Trust me, the smell of goat is not something that goes away easily."

"You should have gotten pictures."

They were seated in the kitchen, with several pictures scattered on the table. Almost all were of Chuck, with only a few blurry images of Bryce to be found. Even though he was a college student at the time, Chuck realized that Bryce was already a spy, and careful to keep the photographic evidence to a minimum.

"Yeah, he was hard to keep up with."

"I'm glad you're sharing this with me," Sarah said.

"Well I know you spent a lot of time with him, but didn't know him as well as you could have." It seemed odd to Chuck that after all the time he'd spent dwelling on Bryce and Sarah being together, it now was just something they had in common.

Sarah put a hand on Chuck's shoulder. "You know, being the class clown is great and all. But I always go for the cute intellectuals."

"Oh, you mean David Rogers. I guess he's alright for a sophomore, but…"

Sarah kissed him before he could continue. "Chuck, shut up, and come to bed."

Chuck smiled as she took him by the hand and led him towards the bedroom. On his way, he paused, "I'll be right behind you."

Once Sarah had disappeared, he looked up at the ceiling. "Um, Bryce? If you're still here, or if you were ever here? I don't suppose you could maybe go to a movie or something? This is kind of a private moment." Feeling ridiculous, Chuck shook his head.

As he was headed to the bedroom, though, he noticed a sock lying in the corner. He grabbed it, and tied to the bedroom doorknob. Satisfied, he quietly opened the door and headed inside.

* * *

_Ok, I'll admit that was probably the least scary Halloween story in history. But I guess if I wanted scary, I'd have had Jeff hook up with Beckman again (interspecies dating, right?)._

_Happy Halloween everybody._


End file.
